Page 108 of Puck with Karma
“Yes,” she chuckles. “My parents divorced when I was really young. A few years ago, my dad met someone. She is younger. They had a baby.” She shrugs, slightly uncomfortable talking about it. “He is a great kid though. I love him.”
She looks at me smiling, possibly waiting for my judgment. Except that I don’t give a fuck what people do with their lives.
“Good for you,” I comment.
We fall into an awkward silence where she finally gets the message that I don’t want to talk to her.
“Okay,” she rips the Velcro off an arm cuff. “Let’s check your blood pressure.”
She wraps the cuff around my bicep, and I feel it inflating from the pressure. That’s followed by checking my oxygen levels and temperature.
“Perfect numbers,” she smiles at me again.
“I should hope so,” I smirk at her.
She looks like she has a smartass remark on her lips, but then, she changes her mind.
“A few phone calls came through for you,” she informs me. “They all seem to be coming from the same person. Laura something or other.”
“That’s a weird last name.Something-or-other.”
I know exactly who she’s talking about as soon as she says the name, but I can’t resist the smartass remark. Bridget looks amused enough by it, or she’s just being polite. Kind of hard to tell seeing as my face is all fucked up and in pain.
“Either way,” she shrugs. “I told her we’re not heroryour personal assistants, and she can talk to you whenever you’re capable of forming words without sounding like a cartoon.”
That part is funny. A deep chuckle erupts from my chest, and I regret it as soon as it happens when the pain hits me. I close my eyes and try to focus on anything other than the excruciating burn taking over my entire face once again.
All I see is Abigail Bennett. She is a kaleidoscope of colors in a moment of weakness and despair. As if in slow motion, I play out everything that happened from the moment I stepped foot in the parking garage underneath Karlsberg’s building. Getting down there was a lot easier than expected. There was a kid minding the gate. Apparently, he was a huge hockey fan, and he knew exactly who I was.
“My dad’s not gonna believe I met Xander Hamilton from the Cats,” he grinned at me. “Can we take a selfie?”
I hesitated for a second, but that was the only way for me to get in. I gave a thumbs up and smiled into the camera when prompted.
“Are you here to see Van Boyd?” the kid asked. “I read you two played together in the minors.” He’d obviously done all the homework. And yeah, me and Van Boyd, the dude who just so happens to be Karlsberg’s best friend, did play together in the minors. While we never kept in constant contact since being drafted into the pros, we’ve always been civil to each other.
“Yeah, I’m here to see Van,” I lied to the kid. “It’s a surprise.”
He grinned at me again and was more than happy to let me in. As I tried to get the lay of the land and figure out which way to the elevators, I heard voices. First thing I saw when I turned my head was Abby way too close to that fucker. That was followed by Mallory and Van. Anger and confusion clouded my line of vision.
When I called their attention, I saw the surprise on Abby’s face right away. I had every intention to march right up to her until Karlsberg grabbed her and pushed her behind him. In my lame attempt to hurt her, I kissed Mallory. All hell broke loose.
And now, here I am, sitting in the emergency room, hoping like hell videos of this will not go out to the press, but knowing that they are already out there.
“I’m going to give you something for the pain,” the nurse warns right before a needle pierces the skin on my arm.
I don’t even flinch as I wait for whatever she gave me to kick in. That happens a lot faster than I’d have expected.
“Now,” she continues, “I will need to numb your face. You’ll thank me later.”
I don’t question anything she says. Instead, I watch when she sticks a thin needle into a vial of clear liquid. She pulls on the plunger and the syringe fills with the medication. I close my eyes when she brings it close to my face, then I feel her injecting into a couple of spots on each side of my face.
“That feels a little better,” I admit, and she gives me a sympathetic pat on the arm.
“The doctor should be here any minute now.”
She starts typing something on her laptop, and I continue keeping my eyes closed. When I attempt to move my mouth from side to side, I don’t feel a thing. These drugs are the shit. I smile at the ceiling, then turn my head to thank the nurse.
“I think your phone is buzzing,” she points at me, confusing me all to hell. I dig the cell phone out of my jeans pocket and squint at the screen. It looks like I got a text.
